


Kill the Witch

by red_streaks



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Abuse, Enchanted Forest AU, F/F, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4803332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_streaks/pseuds/red_streaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Evil Queen has been laying low for years now, waiting for the cursed child of Snow White to carry out her ultimate revenge. She thinks she will succeed until one night, the princess shows up at her doorsteps, and the curse rewrites itself.</p><p>The princess can’t escape the darkness, unless, of course, it is matched with equal evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little girls should fear Evil Queens

**Author's Note:**

> This is so, so different from any other story I've written, and it was such a challenge that I've enjoyed. I hope you guys like it as much as I've enjoyed writing. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, let me know what you think!

you don’t know what to do the first time she wanders into the outskirts of your forest.

 

it’s the huntsman who warns you, entering silently into the room, bowing deeply and announcing that a certain blonde was seen fleeing in a ripped dress, stumbling through branches and cutting her arms.

 

your blood coils easily, as it does these days and you ask for her head on a platter. the huntsman bows deeply again but doesn’t retreat and you snap at him, raising from your vanity and flipping your dress behind you.

 

he repeats that a blonde has been seen in the forest, a blonde with fair skin and a protruding chin and you still, your nails digging into your palm.

 

you don’t know what to do, but the evil queen does and so you order for her to be imprisoned. your hand shakes twice and you realize there’s blood pooling on your palm and that snow white’s child has fled to your palace.

 

you’ve seen her before, many times before as you watch snow white become more radiant and radiant with happiness over the years, and you’ve been watching over the little babe, contemplating how good her blood would look against her pretty yellow hair.

 

you wait in your chamber and change clothes, opting for a black dress that has made old men cry and sit at the end of your bed, uncharacteristically nervous. soon enough the hoofs of your horses are heard outside the window and as the sun is setting, the young princess is brought to you.

 

steeling yourself against the green eyes you are sure to see, you call your magic forth and remind yourself that this girl will bring the end of your suffering. suddenly the color of your dress is significant, you realize as you descend the stairs. 

 

you are killing your suffering tonight.

 

she’s resisting the guards, a youngling barely over fifteen and you raise your chin defiantly, sneering down at her. she stills as she catches sight of you, and for a moment there’s fear in her eyes. she raises her chin, too similar to your own stance and you notice that there are shallow cuts along her arms and cheeks, droplets of blood in her hair, and your heart soars.  

 

you step forward menacingly but she stands still and watches your hair, your dress and the color of your lips and suddenly her eyes go wide with recognition. 

 

she’s barely a child, not much younger than you were when he was murdered, and she’s definitely just as reckless as you were.

 

the girl raises her chin even higher and, despite being held by the arms, she curtsies as low as she can, her ripped dress whispering across the floor.

 

“Your Majesty,” she says, and your blood coils because there’s no fear or respect, there’s only bright eyes and childish glee. you cursed this child once, and you remember how those eyes had looked up at you, barely a babe, with the same bright curiosity.

 

you rise to your fullest height and the air around you crackles significantly, the smell of your magic pungent. she still does not cower but you are not worried. snow will be notified shortly and the woman will fear for her daughter. 

 

“what is your name, child?” 

 

she looks at you for a few moments and when she does not answer, your magic weaves around your men and stops at her throat, circling her and putting pressure until she’s gasping and clawing at it.

 

you let her vision tunnel before letting your magic retreat and suddenly, there’s tears in her eyes but no fear. there’s hatred and curiosity that startles you.

 

“emma” she states simply and you wonder how you never heard her name or learned of her identity before today. had her mother never called her?

 

“emma,” you repeat, and the girl flinches at the sugar sweet way it’s uttered, “do you know who i am?” you get closer to the girl, and she takes a deep breath. there’s still tears in her eyes, and her throat is already bruising.

 

“my mother calls you the evil queen.” your breath stutters and your men tense around you, the term never uttered in your presence without retributions.

 

“but i believe you are also queen regina.” the girl says quietly, still trying to keep her chin up.

 

you stop in your tracks, advancing towards the blonde forgotten to you as you register her words. it has been years since you’ve known someone that has called you regina and your heart stutters in its place, there’s blood beating against rib cages and your ears hum. 

 

you let your blood rush to your head before you continue on your way. you clutch the blonde around her throat and squeeze, baring her teeth and scanning the girls face.

 

“it’s Your Majesty for you, dear.” the blonde tries nodding once and you let go of her brusquely. she’s coughing and spitting as you turn around and storm out of the room.

 

“to the dungeons.” 

 

you don't know what to do.

 

*

 

she’s sleeping when you visit the next morning, her hair fanning out and it enrages you how she’s fled the White kingdom to turn up here. you are the evil queen and you could have her head, but there’s snow white and her punishment and revenge. you don't know whether to kill the child or raise her to be a true princess, not the brat snow turned out to be.

 

the child stirs and you're no closer to figuring out whether or not you want her blood adorning 

your gown, or if you’d like to keep her in the dungeon, having snow far away and suffering, or if you should let her live with you, an extension to your plan to make snow suffer.

 

she notices you soon enough, and it impresses you that she’s not as meek as snow was, and that she's got a keen eye for trouble.

 

“i see you've made yourself comfortable.” you relish in the way there’s leaves in her hair and her scratches are grimy, and there’s blood caked on her left cheek.

 

the blonde sits up but stays on the ground and she rubs her arms for warmth as she replies, “yeah- the queen’s mercy knows no bounds.” 

 

you feel your muscles tense up and your suddenly very aware of how long it’s been since you’ve had scathing words with anybody else that didn’t cower before you. 

 

the girl is barely fifteen and yet she has more bite than snow did at that age. 

 

something doesn’t sit right with you, and it kept you awake and wanting to enter the dungeons long before you did, so you take a step forward and ask the princess.

 

‘what did sweet snow do to make you flee into the evil queen’s arms?” you take pleasure in the way the girl’s face contorts at the mention of her mother and you think that this girl might be more interesting than you thought. 

 

“if i tell you, will you release me from this cell?” the blonde raises her eyebrows in fake innocence that sits well with her, and you suspect this trait makes her parents suffer greatly.

 

“i might have someone tend your cuts, but nothing else. you entered my land without permission. you are my prisoner now.” 

 

the blonde mulls over this and shrugs her shoulders in a dismissive manner.

 

“my mother- she wants to marry me off already. to a _man_.” the girl shudders and you remember snow at her fathers feet looking at him adoringly, seeing past the gray hair and wrinkled hands, and overhearing what a great mother you've been. 

 

bile rises at the back of your throat and you pinch your thigh to keep from killing the guard nearest to you.

 

the blonde continues on without notice,

 

“his name’s neal. he’s nearly thirty already and son to a promising monarch or something and mother just _loves_ how he interacts with me.” the child is plucking at her dress and her brow furrows as she whispers the next words.

 

“see, i don’t know if i even like neal. or guys.” she looks up to you at that moment and your heart drops because the girl is just a girl and snow does not realize this conflict. 

 

“they told me last night. during dinner, he was sitting beside me, and they announced our engagement. i threw my soup at him when he tried kissing my hand, and fled. i didn’t know i was headed here, i just- i just ran.”

 

you don’t know what to say and so you remain silent, your gown scraping against the the dusty floor of the dungeon. 

 

“would you like me to kill him?” the blonde snaps her head up and you almost chuckle at the surprise on her face.

 

“no! no- just maybe, make him disappear?” she’s moving her arms around and she winces when the skin of her forearm stretches at a cut.

 

you consider her words and wonder when you decided to feel pity for snow whites child. the woman clearly is not taking good care of her daughter, and if you could turn the child against her mother, well- you could have the slowest revenge and most gratifying happy ending ever.  


you mull over what to do next, and with a final nod, and flick of the wrist, you open the cell and leave the dungeon.

 

“hey! hey- wait!” the blonde follows you like you thought she would, and you pause at the foot of the stairs.

 

“yes, dear?” you raise an eyebrow and see that she’s scrambling to keep up.

 

“aren’t you going to kill me? why are you helping me, you’re the evil queen!” the girl stops short of barreling into you and your hand clenches at your side. 

 

yes, the girl is foolish indeed, you think.

 

you throw her against a cell, her back resonating against the bars, and you heart stays in place with the amazing sound of her head cracking.

 

“do not question my motives. do not question _me_.” your body trembles with the power of hurting someone, your blood is singing in your ear and you feel your cheeks coloring.

 

the girl is on the floor whimpering, and she stares at you with fear, finally. you laugh and laugh because you're saving the blonde from snow white, not the evil queen and your sides are hurting with how ironic it is to have the blonde bleeding at your feet instead of her mother who has yet to know of her daughter’s imprisonment. 

 

the blonde is still staring at you, and the air is cackling along with your unrestrained magic. when the girl passes out, you are still laughing.

 

you don't know what else to do.

 

the girl is taken to the infirmary and is tended to.

 

*

 

you send message to one of your servants and soon enough, you have a name and a house to find. you’re tightening your corset when the huntsman slides into the room. he says the child is awake and you tell him to release her. you don't have time to meet with her again and she needs to go home to snow. you remind the huntsman to tell the child she should not speak of the evil queen to, not if she wants help out of the marriage.

 

the huntsman leaves and you prepare for a night of blood.

 


	2. Boil your heart, before it starts beating again

the second time she wanders into the outskirts of your forest, you know exactly what to do. she’s no longer a child, in fact she’s grown quite a bit. the princess is now twenty-four and you don’t know why she must need your help, but you let her run through the forest and cut her arms.

 

you make her wait a full night in the forest, searching for the palace and screaming your name until you realize that snow’s men are approaching, slow and weak but approaching never the less.

 

you send the huntsman and your men again- and she’s brought to you in much the same fashion.

 

you let her stay in the dungeon at first, one night with one meal but the next morning you can’t take it any longer. there are dresses to wear and princesses to help.

 

you wear red this time because you want to remind her of the blood spilt the night she left the palace nine years ago. neal is alive, and well- far enough that he won’t reach the young girl.

 

you descend the stairs and the blonde girl is on the floor, shaking despite the warm, sticky atmosphere. 

 

she looks up with sunken eyes and instantly you realize that the girl is gone and a woman has arrived. you unlock the cell without flair and send for food.

 

“what brings you here this time?” you try not to look too hard at her- she’s flinching at every movement you make, at the sound of your voice, and you don’t know if it’s because she’s finally afraid of who she’s running from or who she ran to.

 

the blonde slumps to the floor and let’s an anguished cry fill you with dread and pity.

 

you should hate her and think of her as a child, a mere brat raised by the charmings but you look at her limp hair and at the scabs on her arms and you realize that she’s been running for some time now. a week- maybe two.

 

you ask if you may touch her and she cries out once again and shakes and shakes until she’s limp on the floor. she’s cried herself into a stupor and so you lift her with magic, still not disrespecting her wishes. your magic curls around her body gracefully, almost as if it was fashioned just for her. your blood soars when your magic makes contact and you make sure she’s safe and clean.

 

there’s bruises on her knees and you feel your rage fill you up, you’ve been empty for so so long that you let it fuel you; you send for an attack on snow men’s who are lurking near. blood- you want blood yourself and you tell the huntsman to stay outside your bed chamber where the princess lays. 

 

you kill them all and send their heads back.

 

your gown is heavy with slick blood- you chose not to change or wear shoes that would only be ruined. you send your men back on horse and walk on bloodied feet all the way to the castle, leaving a trail of red everywhere you step.the snow around you swims in blood. your eyelashes are heavy as well, and when you blink you are surprised when blood drips off them and spill into your cheeks, running down to your lips.

 

you walk back in a red haze.

 

when you arrive the princess is awake and in distress but you don’t bother changing or cleaning the mess before entering the chamber.

 

she yells in surprise at the sight of you, the braid you had running down your back is now dripping in blood and your chest is smeared and splattered with the inklings of their fear- you feel alive and proud. you could have killed them all with magic, twisted their necks and let them stay whole.

 

you chose to be messy- you needed the blood.

 

she asks you who you killed and you give her a look that silences her for about two seconds before she’s sitting up in bed yelling for someone named red and friends, and you twist your braid until the dark liquid is slowly dripping to the floor.

 

you say they were all men- all over thirty and she settles down and watches you as you see yourself in the mirror.

 

the huntsman is still there and you ask him for food- the princess looks ill.

 

he leaves and you sigh- already tired of having company. 

 

the blonde is settled against your pillows and you finally take a look at her.

 

she’s grown in height and she’s grown into the chin. she has a woman’s body now- her cheekbones sharp and alluring, her jaw slitting and making shadows against her neck. you appreciate her beauty and deem her perfect before you know what you’re doing.

 

she’s still watching you and the blood is caking on your face; it reeks of iron and metal in the room, so you flick your wrist and you appear clean and in your night gown- not bothering with being seen as a queen. tonight you are a predator and anything else comes second.

 

“you look the same.” the blonde roams her eyes over your body and you're suddenly conscious of they way you've stayed young- the never ending struggle to find something to claim as happiness. 

 

the blonde’s eyes are a little unfocused and yes- this is interesting. you’ve no need to use her tonight or soon- but the blonde’s lingering glance is something not to be forgotten.

 

“magic,” you state simply and the food arrives. you urge her to eat and she does- once twice, three times until she’s slumped against the pillows and rubbing her stomach.

 

you wait patiently by your vanity- curious and burning with questions. there’s blood underneath your finger nails that you like to stare at while she eats and it gives you perverse pleasure to know that the blonde is against your black bed- her hair a bright halo against the otherwise dark room. 

 

you wait and wait and the princess falls asleep- comfortable in your presence. its maddening and stupid and you want her awake to explain her lack of fear. 

 

you leave the room and sleep elsewhere- the huntsman is stationed outside of your bed chamber and you succumb to sleep knowing the princess is safe and snow is suffering. you haven’t felt this full since snow bit into that apple.

 

the princess awakens at noon. you’ve been up arranging your men and women into a formidable army- you have food prepared and you’ve dressed yourself in the darkest dress you own. the material is taught against your skin and you're aware that it only makes you feel more powerful.

 

she comes stumbling down the passage stairs while you're talking to the insufferable blacksmith. you wave your hand and the man disappears without preamble. 

 

the blonde is rubbing at her eyes- she’s pale in the midday sunlight and the scratches and bruises only make you more concerned with each passing hour. you haven’t eaten so you lead her to the dining room- aware that she blonde is looking around in interest.

 

she eats less than the night before, but still beats you in urgency.

 

she sits in front of you and stares at her plate, her now curled and frizzled hair falling over both shoulders and it startles you how old she looks. 

 

you both finish and you've been waiting for hours for her to talk. your patience when it comes to the princess startles you, as do most thing with her- but its nearing that time of day where you execute orders and not dine with ex prisoners, so you clear your throat and ask her very politely, very regally, why the hell she showed up once more.

 

“did you forget how easily i flung you around, my dear?” you certainly haven’t forgotten the pleasure at seeing the young princess crumpled and defeated at your feet.

 

she looks up from her empty plate and searches your eyes. its not as exciting as you thought it would be, fishing for information from a broken princess -and so you wait and wait and let her look at you.

 

she exhales and inhales and soon enough theres too much air in the room and she rises, running a hand through her hair and sitting back down in defeat.

 

she's gripping the end of her hair when she finally looks up and there’s a hollow kind of hurt that you remember and inhale. you move your wrist and the plates are cleared, you move to her side and sit close enough to see the smallest of the scars. she's scared but you note with surprise that it isn't of you.

 

“give me a name.” your voice rises and it sends vibrations to the back of your throat, the deep timbre of your commanding voice sending the princess’ head up again.

 

she swallows thickly and nods as if to say ‘soon enough.’

 

you're tired of waiting.

 

“he was a _friend_.” she spits the last word with enough acid that the hair on your arm raises with anger and your nostrils flare with magic that’s threatening to explode.

 

“a name.” you command and she lunges forward to touch your arm. you pause and breathe through your nose hard enough that specks of magic come out, swirling in the air until they settle by the table.

 

“i need- just to talk.” she’s mumbling and looking at where she's touching you. you decide that your patience hasn't been worn out.

 

she looks smaller than she is, her lean body curling in on herself and shrinking in her seat. theres another flick of your wrist and theres a mug in front of her- brimming with sweet sugar and chocolate and you remind yourself that she’s not a child anymore. she sips at it and looks pleased, and for a moment you let her small smile warm your cheeks.

 

“my parents-“ she swallows and blinks twice, “they backed off after neal’s father retracted his offer.” the form in which she speaks is startling and refreshing, childish and worn out, and you lean forward to catch it all.

 

“for a while i could do as i pleased. i couldn't run off again without anybody being suspicious but i didn't have any suitors until i was sixteen. i turned each and every one away with the excuse that they were not good enough for me. my father- he accepted this and pampered me until he could. a year ago, this- this king. do you know all of my mother’s enemies?”

 

“even the one’s she’s not aware of.”

 

“well, this old ass king apparently really hated my mother and has this disturbingly huge army- one he was willing to use on the kingdom because of some stupid treaty my mother broke unknowingly.” the princess is waving her arms around and swiping the hair from her face. you have an idea of who she’s talking about and your blood runs cold.

 

“they were worried- I’ve never seen them this crazy since you sent a warning when i was ten. they met a lot with him and in one of the meetings he- well, he saw me. pretty soon, i was present in all of the meetings and negotiations even though i didn't care for any of that. the kingdom was safe so far and my mother had to fix her stupid mistake. i got to- i got to know him. he was friendly enough, always joking. i thought we were- friends?” the blonde moves her hands again in defeat and you have the odd feeling that this is where you reach out and comfort her. 

 

you don’t. 

 

“anyways, during that time my mother was looking for a way to fix her the treaty.” she blows out air and tucks a single strand behind her ear before continuing in a frenzied tone.

 

“the only way to do that was by ‘uniting feuding kingdoms in prosper marriage.’ of course, i refused. but i learned rather…quickly that you don't refuse kings or say that they are not good enough. the engagement was announced, the kingdom was safe and happy and i am to marry him in a week.” the blonde shudders and stays quiet for a second, drawing her knees to her chest.

 

“i was to spend the six months before the wedding at his castle, and i - i couldn’t refuse. i _couldn’t_. so i took my stuff and my parents visited scarcely because that was my life now. it wasn’t all that bad. i had- red followed me as a handmaid. and i, well it wasn’t that bad until he- the king, he. he _wanted things_ from me. he cornered me and, and-“ the girl is babbling now and you cant help the tendril of magic that’s coursing out of your fingertips, nor the crackling of the mirrors behind the girl, the tightening of the metal on the chandelier above you. you can’t help it and you stare at the beautiful girl and clench your fists.

 

her eyes are tearing now and she’s clenching her jaw painfully. you consider reaching out but your hand doesn't obey and your magic keeps you in an angry stance.

 

“and he- well he made _advances_. the first time, i fought him off. i got this in return.” she’s pointing to an angry bruise on her upper arm, and although its fading and more yellow than blue- you call forth your magic and it coils around her arm until it’s pink and white and innocent.

 

she stares at you for a moment and you stare back- unflinching because you may be evil but you know of the maddening, terrifying masses of unyielding men.

 

“the second time he uh- got under my dress. didn't get far. i sent for my mother at the time, to take me away or make him wait- anything to make him stop. they sent a fucking _letter_ asking him for his never ending patience. he was pissed. came after me at night and held me down- telling me that, that he’d show me patience and, and” the blonde is crying now, openly gasping for breath and shaking in the seat and you force your magic to tamper down, except you’re furious and disgusted and the skies outside crack open with your fury.

 

the rain starts pummeling down hard on stone as you reach forward and wrap a hand around her wrist. she comes easily undone at your contact and you tell her very quietly and very softly that you won’t hurt her.

 

you drop to your knees hard and the floor shakes with magic. there are objects rattling and trying to suspend themselves in the air and you take one last breath before tugging on her wrist again.

 

everything stills and she looks down at you with dark dark eyes that are too similar to yours. you meant to tug her down to the floor with you, wrap your tired arms around her but she seems to find strength in your position and so she tangles her hands with yours and continues.

 

“i sent for my mother after that, asked red to bring her there. she came back alone because it was my- my _duty_ and she refused to believe what he’s done. it happened once more before i ran and now- well now i am here.” she takes a deep breath and you look at her tear stained cheeks for a second. it is still pouring outside, the sky crackling and thundering and you grip her hands before asking,

 

“would you like me to end him?” you say this very quietly and sincerely because she didn't take well to your blood stained cheeks last night but today she looks down at you with something like hope and wonder and a fresh smile adorns her cracked lips.

 

“yes,” she whispers and thats all it takes for you to stand and press her head to your chest in one fleeting moment of concern.

 

you storm out of the dinning room and she follows, spewing out directions to his castle and his name, King Fray, resonates in your mind until all you are seeing is red. doors are banging open as you make way to your bed chamber and you are flanked by the huntsman and the princess, who is explaining that it took so long to find you because his castle is surrounded by armies and oceans and you turn abruptly and cupher trembling chin. she’s worried you won’t find him, won’t give him a proper ending.

 

“his clear waters will run crimson before he touches you again,” you try to reassure her (the evil queen reassuring her enemy’s child? mother would have been sick) and she stills and nods, follows with less urgency.

 

you arrive at your chamber and let the two younglings enter first. the huntsman is confused and ready with one hand at his sword but you ignore him and choose a loose dress for the princess, something black that runs to her neck and arms, stopping at the floor and you nod and nod because nobody will see or touch the princess while you are gone. she seems grateful and you dress her with one flick of the wrist. her pale skin stands out against the black, and her hair, long and curled makes her look dangerous. 

 

“you will stay with her until i return. she will not leave your sight- i do not care if you watch her from the upmost tower- she will not be unprotected, and if i find that anybody laid a hand on her, i will not hesitate to execute them.” you rise to your fullest height and feel the deep timbre of your voice rise the hair on the huntsman’s arms. 

 

you dress accordingly to the event, a deep black dress with ruby jewels adorning the chest area, long and flowing and just attractive enough. you set your makeup to be threatening and alluring and once you're done with that you move on to rising your hair as high as you can. the end effect is terrifying and attractive, if the twin looks from the blonde and the huntsman are anything to go by. 

 

you kiss the princess’ hand on your way out, and glare at the huntsman until he nods. 

 


	3. Blood never tasted so good

it takes you twenty seconds to arrive to the castle, you're perched up on the wall separating you from the entrance and you wait a full minute until you let the guards know of your presence behind them.

 

they point their sharp toys at you and you send their weapons flying with a lazy motion of your hand. 

 

this is boring.

 

“i am here to kill your ruler. i am sure you have heard of the crimes committed against his precious bride to be, no?” you inspect your nails as you say so and you can feel the men and woman shift dangerously, unsure and uncomfortable with the nonchalant queen.

 

you look up and smile broadly at them, and descend dramatically from the high wall. 

 

“you can join me, or you can die by my hand. let’s make it quick, boys.” a fire ball appears in your hand and three men come surging forward while the rest stare in horror and plug their noses, the scent of burning flesh pungent in the midday sun. 

 

you stare at the rest and decide that the bloodshed will have to wait until you are inside. you are disappointed with the lack of fight but pleased that you will have new additions to your army and so you sweetly ask that they remain where they are until you fetch for them and they stare and blink but don’t say a word.

 

good boys.

 

men try to fight you while you roam the corridors and you take perverse pleasure at how quickly the blood stains your hands and how it smells sweetly against your skin. you want to release prisoners and take handmaids and cooks, but first you go to the throne room where you're sure the bastard’s at.

 

sure enough, he’s sitting against a metal throne, looking hungrily at the women adorning the sides of the room and you enter with flair, banging the doors open and bowing profusely. 

 

he’s distracted and furiously standing until he sees your face, and your heart stutters at the fear you see.

 

“who the hell are you?” he shrieks but by the way he stumbles backwards and his left hand shakes, you know that he’s aware of just who is standing in front of him. 

 

you dismiss the girls around the room with a flick of your wrist and make sure that they can hear from the outside just how long their king can scream. nobody tries entering.

 

it’s three hours later that you leave the room, and you are mourning your ruined shoes but are reveling in the sticky blood that’s running down your cheeks again. there are gasps and people are stumbling back but some reach out and offer their gratitude. you realize with a pang that most of those who are crying and thanking you are young girls. 

 

you invite them all to your castle, victims will be compensated and treated richly, and the amount of people filing out of the castle makes your head dizzy.

 

still, there are some who are loyal, most of which are men with rich robes and dark facial hair and you enjoy the way they fear the crimson on your chest and the blood running down your dress.

 

it’s a fun evening, all in all, and you make sure to go down to the dungeons to see who you can salvage. most are women, once again- and you read every one of the papers outside each cell and decide who stays and who goes.

 

there is one in particular that you don't bother reading. you know her well and know her name, its the same color as the blood on your eyelashes and with a flick of your wrist you open red’s cage. she’s trembling and staring at you with angry eyes, but you mention emma and she moves past you. you make sure she rides in the carriage with you.

 

men and women are filing out eagerly and you're the last to leave. your dress is heavy as you move past stone halls, the blood still dripping off your shoes and leaving a trail of sweet revenge. you stop by the throne room and smile at the red walls and floor. there isn't much left of him, but you take what you can and make sure the princess sees. 

 

and so you storm out of the castle, your hair caked with blood, and your nails crimson with fury, people look at you like you are mad and beautiful and a smile paints your lips, as red as the blood at your feet. you leave the castle, its waters murky with hate.

 

you find out the girl, red, is madly protective of the princess and fierce and stubborn, you smile because the blonde takes after this brunette mess more than snow, and you're thankful that you found her in time.

 

she has many questions and you try answering as many as you can. you've got men to look after and weak children to put in carriages. soon enough you are all making your way back to your castle. red rides with you and she stares at your painted body with disgust and awe, she grows restless with each hour that passes without seeing the blonde.

 

“are you familiar with magic?” you ask her, tilting your head in innocence, because red might tolerate you now, but she has been and always will be an ally of snow.

 

she nods and asks why, looking weary.

 

you smile broadly and even show your teeth, 

 

“because this will be a tad bit uncomfortable”

 

red smiles madly back, sharp teeth startling you before you flick your wrist and send her to the blonde.

 

its a quiet ride from there on and you consider cleaning yourself before deciding to make a stop by the villages. its quick and painless. you announce yourself as their new ruler and you drop a few coins and golden objects found in the torn castle. the houses are falling and people are starving and so you go from house to house in your bloodied dress and fix wood, fill stomachs. 

 

the people are scared but grateful, and soon they are under the evil queen’s thumb. 

 

by the time you finish, the carriages have advanced well into the forest and you know they will all be tended at the castle, so you flick your tired wrist and suddenly you're standing in the kitchen, ordering food for everyone and addressing head maids, making room for more and more servants. the castle is alive and running well into the middle of the night, and you check on the princess.

 

you find her in bed with red, clutching at the girl and crying softly. the huntsman looks uncomfortable and so you release him with one bored nod. 

 

red is looking at you with something akin to respect and the princess scrambles out of bed to face you. her face is red and blotchy, but she looks excited and hopeful. you smile wickedly and reach into the folds of your dress to take out a hand with several fingers missing. you don’t miss red’s look of disgust or confusion, but you are more focused on the princess’ giggle and suddenly you're not so tired.

 

the princess looks disgusted and pleased at the same time, and she examines your face and hands, the dress and the blood in between your breasts, and she beams and heads back to bed with a kind _‘thank you_.’ you suspect you wont get any sleep in your own bed again, so you change quickly and glare at red before departing for the night.

 

you leave blood underneath your fingernails.

 

you don’t eat with the girls the next morning, and the huntsman says the blonde asked for you several times. you ignore his pointed stare, and continue your work. there are cooks to reposition, handmaids to appoint, and children to feed. the end of the day comes with little drama, everybody is safe, and everybody is familiar enough with the castle rules that nobody fears the evil queen too much.

 

the children in particular have taken a liking to you, and it unsettles you that they run past you, clutching at your dress and running from their mothers, who look stricken with fear. their eyes will focus on their children’s grubby hands and they will stutter and apologize, but you find that your temper is nonexistent around children.

nightfall comes, and you have yet to see the princess, although you know she stayed. you’re trying to ignore the fluttering of your heart as you think of her hair and the boiling of your blood as you think of the ways she’s been touched. it’s a dangerous combination for your heart, this caring and protective business. you know what it means, but hide it behind sneers and blood caked dresses. 

 

she’s still in your bed chamber, and you don't know why you haven't removed her yet or given her a new room. you suppose you feel pity.

 

you enter without knocking because you feel that you've already given too much. you're exhausted and sore, and you are practically walking with the help of your magic.

 

you find the princess by your vanity, whispering madly to red and they both freeze when you enter. it’s annoying and endearing, how the princess stands and curtsies mockingly, but you notice that her eyes are not as hollow as you saw them the night before. they are red rimmed and a little swollen, and you call for ointments and creams, before addressing her and asking of her sleeping arraignments. red has been sleeping with her and you don’t have it in you to send them to another room, so you pack your dresses and leave them again before coming back.

 

red is eyeing you with distrust and a little respect, but you remember that she’s the granddaughter of one snow’s most trusted friends, wouldn't have endowed her with her daughter’s safety if it weren't true.

 

still, snow did send them both to their death bed and that gives you enough room to bend loyalties.

 

“will you be staying?” you don’t address them separately but as one because wherever emma goes, red follows. 

 

red shifts uncomfortably on the bed, looks anywhere but at emma who is trying to catch her eye. finally the blonde turns and lifts her chin, so reminiscent of the day she first arrived that you tamper down a grin.

 

“yes. but i need your help.”

 

you are so very tired of helping princesses, you try to tell yourself. you have an image to uphold, your treacherous mind tells you, so you lift an eyebrow and sneer.

 

“what more will you take?” you know this is a lie because all the princess has done is existed and given you more people to slaughter. it should be you who is indebted to her, but you lift your chin and look almost bored.

 

she looks down at the floor and almost immediately you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

 

regret.

 

and so you lift her chin with a single finger because too many things have been taken from the young princess, and this sort of game where you take power from the powerless will not work.

 

“i need a cape.” it’s not something you expect and she must notice because she hurriedly says, “for red. she’s uh- well she needs a magic cape because the king burned hers and now the full moon is approaching and well. she’s uh-“

 

“a werewolf.” red finishes. she’s standing up now, ready to fight. 

 

you smile because it hasn’t dawned on these two that the evil queen loves nothing more than misfits who are thrown out of their homes. they are easier to manipulate and they are starved from love, something you know how to fake well. it works in your advantage, though you don’t know what that is yet, that these two misfits need your help.

 

red is looking at you like you might start shouting and throwing silver at her, so you widen your smile.

 

“of course. what color?” you know the answer but enjoy the surprise and gratitude on the two faces in front of you.

 

“red. please.” she adds as an afterthought and emma smiles encouragingly at her. you know of the werewolf, the third in her family and most likely not the last. you know her grandmother will follow soon enough, and that she will be harder to persuade. you could let them leave, emma, red and the grandmother when she comes, and she _will_ because you know snow well enough, but the thought of the princess leaving makes your stomach coil and your heart to seize in a possessive manner. 

 

“will your servitude to snow be a problem?” you say this directly to the werewolf now because you don't do well with betrayal, even if it is for a certain broken princess.

 

you’re not ready for the look of determination that crosses red’s face, or the look of hurt and betrayal. you remember a dirty cell and red clutching a crumpled letter, no doubt from snow, in King Fray’s dungeon and suddenly it makes sense.

 

“she killed your girlhood and made you a woman” you say before she answers. you know this all too well, there’s three women in the room who snow owes their innocence.

 

emma nods, something dark overcoming her face and your suddenly grateful for having somebody who understands, although you would have given curses and goblets for this princess in particular to have escaped that fate.

 

red only clenches her jaw and walks to stand next to the blonde. the three of you stand in silence for a while longer until a question makes its way up your throat.

 

“would you like me to kill her?” it’s a question you’ve been asking aplenty lately but you're not hesitant to carry it out when you feel like you could hand the princess the world in a platter. the thought makes you dizzy and furious and hurt so you don’t dwell on it. 

 

red’s eyes go wide and emma’s face lights up, starting with the rising of her eyebrows and ending with the lifting of her lips.

 

still, you know the answer before she utters it, because you know the hold a mother can have even on the strongest of souls.

 

“no. maybe?” you nod anyways, like you understand the conflict and murder is an easy topic to discuss before bed. you're exhausted, there’s a thin thread of magic running up your spine and down your feet keeping you awake, but you can feel yourself crashing, so you kiss the princess’ hand, mindful of the blush, and take your leave.

 

there’s much to do. 

 


	4. You're a fool, thank the heavens she doesn't mind much

when you were eleven, daddy brought home something strange, it was wild and large and it stole your breath. every inch of the item demanded you to give it your full attention, so you did. it was a tree, a wide tree that your skinny arms couldn't wrap around and tall enough that you wanted to climb it. 

 

it was strange because of its color, pink and red and brown at the same time. he called it a cherry blossom, and blossom did it ever. you don't know how he traveled with an enormous tree, or how it survived the journey uprooted, but it was something glorious and breathtaking enough that you didn’t question it’s presence. 

 

years later, you found out that mother had asked for the most beautiful thing daddy could find to entertain you, to make you happy in an otherwise hollow place. it worked wondrously, because after every beating or lesson, you would find solitude in its large branches, and you’d be ready for another round.

 

mother wanted you ready and giving you hope only made you weaker, more susceptible to being broken by her. 

 

you never questioned it’s presence and it made you weak.

 

that night, you dream of the tree and you remember how it felt seeing it in only red as mother burned it out, one last lesson before leaving for the King’s. it leaves you sweaty and weary, and you question the princess’ presence. 

 

you’ve always known that paranoia makes you do unfathomable things.

 

you almost fly to the princess’s room with how fast you're moving in the morning, almost giving way to the tale of witches flying on broomsticks, and burst through the door. her sleeping face, rolling and freckled, almost gives you pause but you barrel through because too many people are dead and gone and away from you to be weak now.

 

red bolts up in bed first but the way her arm had been wrapped around emma’s waist only makes you angry; you throw her out the room like a wounded puppy. emma wakes up slowly, despite the magic crackling in the air and your heavy breathing. you're impatient this morning so you slam her against the wall, a loud thud resonating in your ears from where her head meets stone.

 

she’s alarmed and fearful, but you notice that she’s not focused and that she’s trashing around. this only angers you more because a fight without submittance is no fight at all. you move to pin her arms down against the wall and that’s where you see her eyes, pained and hollow and _remembering_.

 

“please,” she sobs and because he pinned you down many times, you know what she’s thinking and you know what kind of damage you've done.

 

you're disgusted and regretful, and this doesn't sit well with you at all. where is the evil queen when it comes to emma?

 

you fly away from her as though scorched, and when she finally comes down the wall, gently this time, she rolls in on herself and you find that you've never hated yourself more than now.

 

there’s banging on the door, which you locked out of anger, but you don’t let red through yet.

 

you wait until her breathing is no longer ragged, and kneel right in front of her.

 

“may i touch you?”, your tongue is heavy and your hands feel dirty and you want to _kill_.

 

she nods, and your heart soars, and really, where has the evil queen gone to?

 

slowly, so slowly emma actually unlocks her head from in between her arms to look at you, you reach out and lay a hand on her. she unfolds in front of your eyes, and you whisper something so quietly that you don't think she’s hears.

 

“i apologize.”

 

she launches herself at you and there’s a heavy weight all around you after that, there’s blonde hair in your mouth and nails digging in your forearms, a wet mouth crying at your chest, and you feel like you’re at the top of a cherry blossom tree, crying after mother lent a particularly heavy hand.

 

powerless.

 

something is breaking and tearing inside your chest, something that feels a little like care. you realize you’d rip a thousand worlds apart to find a smidgeon of happiness for her, something that you’d only done for one person before; yourself. it makes your cheeks burn with fear, your feet to tremble with indecision, should you stay or should you go?

 

emma trembles in your tired arms, her crying is turning less subtle so you rub circles underneath her neck. it doesn’t escape you that the evil queen is soothing the princess, the once called savior.

 

it doesn’t escape you that the baby you once carried in your arms, spitting threatening words to snow and cursing the child instead of the land, has come running to your arms.

 

she was supposed to live a life devoid of love, something that was hard to accomplish with the two idiots as her parents, but you had cursed her, felt your magic seep into her skin and glow purple before retreating deep within her, gurgling in your arms. she was supposed to turn old enough to leave her parents and look for love, never finding it and never achieving happiness, and snow would watch from afar as the one thing that kept her life together only destroyed her daughter further.

 

love.

 

you had thought that taking her in was the ultimate seal of fate, for who could find happiness within the walls of the evil queen? but now that she’s crying in your arms, you realize that you've made her life better, and consequently, saved her from the fate you yourself had placed upon her. 

 

but your curse had only been made to keep _one_ person away from her, her true love. if you could go back and change the curse, write in to keep all terrible people from her life, you would, even if it meant you leaving her, even if it meant snow wins.

 

you don’t understand it, this feeling of hopelessness that comes with holding her, this woman you barely know and already care for, but it’s been years since you've held something so precious and you're done questioning the source of your happiness.

 

what you’re not done doing is taking it without question or hesitation, so you hold her closer and mumble a song long forgotten in a language you rarely speak into her ear until she’s no longer gasping for breath and imagining old hands gripping her arms. 

 

she settles against you once she’s run out of tears, your legs are numb and your neck hurts from looking down at her, but you wrap your arms tighter.

 

snow once told you that you grip on to the things you love tightly enough they flee, and you suppose it’s true.

 

she’s sniffling and wiping snot with the back of her hand before you stop her with a sharp,

 

“dear, you’re royalty. it’s time you act like one.”

 

it’s intended purpose is not to make her laugh but she does anyways and the thing that was tearing inside your chest only stretches further, painfully, ready to snap or break.

 

she finally looks up and you thank charming and his fearful genes for the fact that emma doesn’t cry prettily like snow did. soon you're laughing with her because she’s not snow, and she won’t find her true love, but you could care for her and keep her safe enough that nobody else will find her either.

 

red is still banging on the door and she breaks eye contact, you flick your wrist and red’s yelping in the hallway now.

 

“that will teach her not to be rude.” you might be smirking and still feel a little merry, but she doesn’t frown in disapproval or flee from your arms, only sighs and settles against your chest.

 

“what happened?” she asks after she swallows painfully, and you don’t know how to answer that. you know what she’s asking though, so you swallow your fear and speak.

 

“i thought you were here for different reasons. reasons treacherous enough to kill you.”

 

she stiffens, her shoulders drawn back but she doesn’t leave. 

 

she doesn’t leave.

 

“i came here because i needed you. you know that.”

 

“maybe the second time, dear, but the first you were stupid enough to wander into the evil queen’s lair.” you spit the name out with derision and maybe a little pity. “i believe i’m your fixer-upper.” the term is juvenile but you think she’ll appreciate it coming out of your lips.

 

“i didn’t need you to fix anything. i didn’t need the evil queen to fix anything, i just knew you’d be here. i came for you.” she says this without much emotion, she's hiding in the folds of your dress but somehow you know she means this.

 

“i could have killed you the first time. why you came back is only a testament to your idiocy.”you do what you do best and push, even if she says that she’s here for you, not the evil queen who she can spy on, or the evil queen who will kill without hesitation.

 

“but you _didn’t_ kill me. you saved me. you’re the only one that came for me.” you think of snow and how she left her daughter behind, how she dragged you into her life for her own comfort and happiness, and suddenly it makes sense that you, the epitome of darkness, seem more alluring to the princess.

 

you don’t say anything but keep stroking her back, mindful of the bruises already forming there from the impact of your magic. you don’t heal her right away because you want her to know what you're capable of, because even if you might feel something a little less than hatred towards her, (which is the only emotion you're capable of, you try convincing yourself) you don’t know how she feels about you.

 

there’s a commotion down in the grounds, you feel your magic tense before you hear it and suddenly red is banging again shouting that her grandmother’s here with an arrow and _please just come out already._

 

emma brightens up and runs to the door, thinking she’ll be able to open it. before you are able to flick your wrist though, she throws it open and in comes stumbling red, panting and rosy cheeked. 

 

“are you okay?” red’s checking for any damage so you stand up and walk to the door, touching the princess’ waist and healing her in the process.

 

“yes.” she answers, looking at you with something bright in her eye.

 

“stay here.” you command and because you’re the evil queen they both nod. you tip your head at the blonde, silently asking if she will be fine. she smiles and nods and relief floods your body.

 

“did she hurt you?” you hear red whisper as you leave.

 

“yes. but it’s fine.” the princess doesn’t bother whispering.

 

“because she doesn’t trust us yet.” emma answers after red asks why, furiously.

 

“and you do? trust her?”

 

you try to leave after shutting the door, you don’t want to know the answer but you don’t leave soon enough.

 

your heart soars when emma says yes without a trace of fear.

 


	5. she's gold and you've tainted her black

the old granny is bursting through the main entrance when you arrive, and you take a second to witness how the years have not been kind to eugenia. she’s wearing glasses now, where before she didn’t need them to aim with precision and she walks with a limp.

 

this shouldn’t be so hard.

 

“hello, eugenia.” you say as pleasantly as possible. “should i fetch some tea?” 

 

she growls, you can see the wrinkles in her skin. you aren't afraid even when she aims her crossbow, even when lets the arrow fly. you let her think her aim will be true before flicking your wrist, but it does nothing. your magic does something its never done before, it fails and leaves your stripped. you notice too late that there’s a necklace glowing around her neck and you scream with fury and dive out of the way. there’s no guards around because you weren’t going to need assistance from a retired wolf, so you do your best to move fast. there’s footsteps growing closer, and you think for a second it might be emma. 

 

she barges into the room just as eugenia lets another arrow fly, and you're distracted by the fury in the princess’ eyes that you don’t realize the arrow is flying closer to you still.

 

she’s next to you in a second, the arrow is close to your heart and you’re cursing the wolf and snow white when suddenly she’s touching you and your magic flares up.

 

the arrow bursts into flames, it’s tip centimeters from your heart and you stare in wonder at the blonde. she still has the gown you gave her two days ago, and her hair is flying around her. she looks threatening and beautiful and its suddenly all you can focus on.

 

her eyes are swirling when she looks at you, they're dark and green and menacing. you don't want to focus on why her touch started your magic back up, so you turn to the scene that’s unfolding before your very eyes. 

 

red’s hugging eugenia and it looks like the older woman is crying and apologizing for not coming sooner. when she notices you looking, she throws red behind her and points the crossbow at you. you’re no longer worried, so you take a few steps towards her, emma by your side for every step.

 

red’s trying to lower the crossbow from where she stands, but eugenia is unrelenting until red screams, “she saved us!”

 

confusion swirls around her eyes but she doesn’t lower the crossbow and you don’t stop walking, _preying_.

 

red’s growing frantic now and eugenia is conflicted.

 

“snow said she captured you, child.” 

 

both girls stiffen with rage and red growls. eugenia pauses, looking from emma to red before lowering her weapon.

 

“i’ll fetch for tea.”

 

*

 

the four of you are seated in emma’s chambers because you’ve let the cooks and maids dine in the grand hallway for their lunch hour. eugenia is sipping tea, watching you over the cup with her weapon sitting neatly on her lap. pointing at you.

 

emma is sitting beside you, red next to her and the three of you make a nice line facing eugenia.

 

“i didn’t hear about what happened to the princess until snow gave us word about an attack on King Fray’s castle. i didn’t even know you were his prisoner, red. snow told us she had received news that the evil queen had taken over his kingdom, taking everybody prisoner. we knew that the princess had ran away alone, snow had been furious and embarrassed, trying to work out a deal with the King. we thought you were a prisoner of the evil queen, not of the King.” eugenia is looking at you, trying to make you angry and you have to be a little impressed with how she doesn’t cower beneath your make-up and sneers. 

 

red’s shaking her head, and eugenia finally looks at her granddaughter. 

 

“he found out i was a werewolf. she included it in the letter because i told her he had stolen my cape when i visited her. after she sent the letter to him, he locked me up and went after emma again. i couldn’t do much this time. i waited, and that’s when _she_ came, dripping in blood and talking about how emma was safe. i followed to make sure she was.”

 

red looks at emma with something akin to love, and although you know it’s not the same, your heart clenches.

 

“i left after that night. mother wasn’t doing anything to stop it, despite the repeated pleas i sent her, so i decided to leave and then rescue red soon. i uh- knew regina before, so i came here instead of home because well- you know. anyways, we’re staying here and that’s the end of it.”

 

eugenia looks mildly appealed and impressed with the story and she apologizes quietly for not realizing sooner what was happening behind snow’s closed doors. emma and red are both tense and vibrating with anger, so you place a hand on the blonde’s arm and she loosens almost immediately. 

 

“i can’t let you do that. snow will worry.” even to you it sounds like a weak excuse, eugenia  is already looking around the place, judging dimensions and safety.

 

“where _is_ snow?” red asks through gritted teeth and eugenia’s head snaps back to her. it’s a valid question, where was snow white when her daughter was molested, where was snow white when her daughter was abused, where was snow white when her daughter was raped, and where is she now when her daughter is missing.

 

“we didn’t know emma was here. she would’ve come herself.”

 

“still, there was a possibility of it, and she only sent one person after the princess’ most trusted friend?” you choose to speak now because otherwise would be foolish, and you enjoy the way eugenia’s cheek color with shame and stumbles to reply.

 

“what will i tell snow?” she’s given in already, noticing how her granddaughter seems content next to the evil queen.

 

“you tell her everything.” it’s emma who speaks now, and it startles you how easily it is for her to take charge. “you tell her i’m here and that i’m staying. she won’t fight for me too long.” there’s a hint of sadness in her tone, after all, she is losing a mother. a selfish, uncouth mother, but a mother nonetheless. 

 

you should be furious that emma is inviting snow white to your castle once again, only the queen gives orders, but then she looks at you as if asking for acceptance and you nod at her and at eugenia. the older woman is staring at red, and you realize that this means she probably won’t return soon.

 

“no. i’m not leaving you behind, red.” her eyes are glistening with unshed tears, but red shakes her head and lays an arm on her grandmother.

 

“this isn’t the place for you, granny. you need to leave.” you know she’s right, eugenia wouldn’t survive a week on this palace, just like snow wouldn’t, and eugenia knows this too so she stands and hugs red and soon she’s on her way out again.

 

it kills you because it kills emma to see red like this, so you send for food and treats because they may be battered women, but they’re still young and light. For the most part.

 

you leave them alone after this, because emma seems drained and red seems sullen. there’s things to do anyways.

 

*

 

you lock yourself in your new chambers, remembering the way the blonde’s eyes had looked when you pinned her down, the kind of fear you never wanted to invoke. bile rises to your mouth and you strip off your dress with magic.

 

it’s time for a kind of cleansing, a ritual of sorts that means you've been too evil too soon.

 

you shackle yourself to the wall with magic, your face pressed against stone and call forth riding crops, long and made of the finest leather. the first hit makes you tremble with fear, and the next makes you bite the inside of your cheek. 

 

_green eyes stare back at you with fear and hatred, her feet are kicking against you._ the third hit draws blood and you've never been more desperate for this punishment. 

 

a fourth hit makes a deep cut across your back and you know there’s an enormous x across it by now. you can’t seem to stop.

 

by the twentieth hit, you want to scream and cry but you remember how she cried against you and you're afraid you might hurt her more, so you continue and continue until you see black.

 

_“please.”_ she had uttered, and you let the crop hit you twice before you unshackle yourself and lay on your ed, letting the pain consume you until it’s time for dinner. 

 

you still feel dirty after.


	6. she's turned your heart in her palm

after dinner, you take her aside, gently leading her from red’s clutches. you take her to your garden where your apple tree is dying, a testament to how far you've fallen, just how much snow has taken from you. 

 

she’s changed into something else, equally dark, but a little more fitting. it’s a simple navy blue dress that whispers across the dead leaves, with long sleeves and a scoop neck. she’s looking around with child-like wonder, and you can’t stop staring. she’s running her hands gently through the shrubs and barely living flowers, flicks tree branches with her fingers and giggles when she tries evading them as they fling back. 

 

you haven’t seen her cheeks this rosy, or her nose that red and you relish in it, how soft she looks. her eyes are no longer dark, but a light green that glint at you when she looks sideways at you, smiling a secret smile as she turns and runs in the opposite direction.

 

you stop because you don’t know what to do, you don’t play these games with your high boots and big dresses, but she’s laughing as she’s running so you hike up your skirts and run after her, the wind hitting your cheeks and the back of your throat.

 

you decide to cheat and use magic, appearing in front of her and making her shriek with glee. she stumbles backwards and falls flat on her back, laughing madly and rolling around. she’s inhibited and wild, blonde hair tangling in the leaves and you can’t help but laugh along, taking a mental picture of how she looks, free and happy.

 

you realize you did the right thing by taking her away from snow, from the king. you can’t seem to find it in you that you’ve cursed her, not if it led her to you.

 

she quiets down and looks up at you, her eyes suddenly dark and mysterious. you take a step forward and look down at her, and if you're smiling a little too widely for a queen, well- you can blame it on the cold. 

 

she extends an arm, silently asking for help in standing up and you don’t think twice about meeting her, holding her soft hand. with a shriek, you realize that she’s intended to pull you down with her. you could use magic, bring you both up, but you chose to fall lightly on top of her.

 

her laugh makes you proud of holding back your magic and that thing that was tearing and snapping painfully inside of you finally breaks and breaks and warmth fills your chest, your entire body, until you're smiling so wide that she’s stopped laughing. she’s looking curiously up at you, her entire length pressed against you, and you’re only a few inches away from her face, so much so that you can count each freckle.

 

you count thirty-four until the warmth becomes too much and you lean down to press her lips against yours.

 

she gasps so loudly you actually catch it in your mouth, but she molds beneath you and follows your lips, bruises them until you're both gasping for breath in the cold floor. she’s gripping your hips, bruising where her fingers are, where her lips are, and you’re lost 

 

lost

 

lost

 

Until she’s breathes against your lips and the world rights itself up. 

 

*

She sleeps in your bed that night. 

 

You didn’t intend for it to happen, you just can’t seem to stop touching her or her you and suddenly your entire senses are overwhelmed with blonde hair green eyes soft skin pink lips. You don't ask for anything other than kisses and breathless forehead touching because her body isn’t ready and you’re done taking things from her.

 

You’ve never felt so light, not when snow bit into the apple, not when you cursed her, not when you sent your mother away. 

 

You don’t think of anything but how her skin feels flushed underneath your hand. Your back is healed, you've taken the precautions of her never finding out, but she kisses other scars until you’re burning with gratitude.

 

And love.

 

*

You steal her again after a warm breakfast with Red, the young brunette eying you suspiciously. You take her to the library this time, press her against the bookshelves and kiss her madly until your head spins with the scent of her.

 

She reads to you, too, with her head resting on your lap, her hands playing with your long hair. She tugs playfully while she reads. sometimes she pauses and stares at you until you run your hands over her lips, caress her cheeks, trace her eyebrows, eyelids. She continues after that.

 

Sometimes her face grows dark and her hands curl up in angry fists, no doubt remembering him. The two of you spend the entire day in the library, bringing food up twice. You realize Emma has panic attacks, breathing heavenly when she remembers his hands on her, and you don't touch her then but talk until she's breathing normally. Until she launches herself into your arms and cries.

 

She throws objects around and howls madly. yYu let her break and break until she’s ready to be pieced back together with the knowing Evil Queen.

 

Your peace only lasts so long because Snow always, always knows when to come when you're the weakest.

 

*

 

The three of you are enjoying a quiet breakfast when it happens, the only sounds audible is the clinking of forks against the plates and your princess chewing loudly. she’s wearing a dark red dress today, the sleeves drawn to her wrist with a high neck. it worries you how much of herself she’s hiding, but she smiles at you when you hand her the dresses so your mouth stays silent.

 

It’s peaceful, with Ruby savagely eating her food. She explains that the full moon is nearing and that she eats thrice as much when it does, because she loathes the raw aftertaste in her mouth when she turns back. 

 

It’s almost lovely, with the princess brushing your hand every so often and blushing delicately, but Yasmin chooses that moment to enter, her blue skirt fluttering against the floor.

 

“Your Majesty, there’s been a sighting.” She bows deeply and Emma tenses besides you. Yasmin doesn’t cower, just stands higher and rearranges the fabric falling off her shoulder. 

 

“Who is the intruder, Yasmin.” If the girl is surprised you know her name, she doesn’t show it, simply bows again and says two words that sends the two young girls in the table raging.

 

“Snow White.”

 

And so Snow comes, as she usually does, with all the flair and false sense of despondence. She rides on a white horse, her army and husband behind her, Yasmin reports, but she’s six full days away from the castle and it’s this information that has you settling smugly against your seat.

 

“There’s more, Your Majesty.”

 

The dark-skinned girl bites her lips and lowers her eyelashes. “A village, near the end of the Black Forest and just beside Ede Creek, has been reporting an uprising. Farmers, villagers, blacksmiths, they’re preparing an attack.”

 

“On who?” Emma speaks, recognizing the village as one she passed before entering your castle. 

 

“On Your Majesty.” Yasmin stares directly at you, and you know without a doubt that she’d head over there on her own with no weapons if you asked.

 

“There’s no letter?” 

 

“They’re not very literate.”

 

You consider your options, either missing Snow’s dramatic entrance or send someone in your name. Your eyes flicker to Red, who is completely engrossed in Yasmin’s face framed by her white hijab, falling over her shoulders and gliding blithely to the ground.

 

You know she’s loyal to Emma, but you’re worried about her loyalty to _you_ , so you decide to test her.

 

“Red,” you start wickedly sweet, “I require your assistance.”

 

She pauses mid-chew and stares at you with a hint of uneasiness. 

 

“I won’t eat anybody.” She places her fork down and talks around her food.

 

“Oh, close your mouth, child. Nothing like that. I simply need you to speak on my behest.”

 

Ruby’s eyes go wide for a second before she straightens out and swallows roughly.

 

“What do you need me to say?”

 

“Find the source of upheaval. Bring them to me, settle the villagers, whatever you must do.” You wave your hand around absentmindedly. You know you’ve given vague instructions and you’re possibly sending Red to a dangerous situation, but the brunette is nodding sagely, a curious determination in her eyes.

 

“When shall I leave?” 

 

“When dusk falls. I trust you will return before darling Snow arrives.” You nod at Yasmin, who understands she is to pack enough food for the brunette not to starve. 

 

“Does she have a choice? We don’t know what she’s walking into!” Emma shifts around besides you and you surprise yourself when you place a hand on her arm.

 

“I’ll be fine, Emma. Trust me.” It’s Red who answers, but she’s looking at you, challenging you as you’ve challenged her. 

 

A white moon appears above the castle as Red says her goodbyes to Emma. She has a peasant garb on, tight laces across her chest that have her proudly walking to retrieve a basket from Yasmin.

 

“Red,” you beckon her after she’s stuttered her way shyly through an awkward conversation.

 

“I believe you requested this.” You hand her a red cape, made of velvet and lace, with leather adoring the hem, and her eyes go wide as she stares at it, reaching out tentatively to stroke the thick hood. “It should keep you warm. And safe,” you add as an afterthought because although you might simply enjoy her company, you know that Emma loves this girl dearly.

 

“Thank you,” she says a tad bit stubbornly and you flash her all your teeth in a mad smile until she’s showing off her canines.

 

“Be quick now, return in two days time with whatever prisoner you choose.” She nods and turns to hug Emma for a long minute.

 

“And Red,” she turns exasperatingly back at you, “she’s married.” You cock your head to Yasmin and Red sighs, her shoulders sagging briefly before she smiling again.

 

“Take care of her,” Red warns, her smile dampening as it turns into a scowl. 

 

“As if my life depended on it,” you promise, because her eyes have turned uncharacteristically solemn. 

 

She lunges forward then and your magic fires up before you realize that she’s hugging you tightly, her face hovering just above your shoulder. She squeezes once before disentangling from you, her arms still attached to your sides.

 

“It does,” she says, and for some odd reason, you believe her.


	7. let her scream and holler, her demons are too loud

You have an army to prepare, because now you have a girl you wish to protect, with her pale skin and dark eyes, and you can’t be too cautious now.

 

She grimaces at you when you leave her, fingertips splayed out on your wrist as she reluctantly lets go, and you spend half the time it would have normally taken to talk to your men and women. You walk the halls with urgency, missing the way her collarbone dips and rises with grace, your heart speeds up with every second you can’t find it and it scares you, makes your stomach plummet with how attached you’ve become. 

 

“Darling,” you whisper furiously, your heels resonating through stone walls, growing with intensity as you pass her empty room, the bare dining room and the silent garden.

 

“Darling,” you scream a little louder, scaring maids and children at once, but you don’t stop, you gather your skirts and turn a corner sharply, the Evil Queen in you clenches your heart and swears to bring bloodshed.

 

You run into something light, toppling to the ground without grace and you scrape your hands against the cold floor. Looking up, you are ready to unleash your tongue on whoever dared to stop your search, when blonde tresses make your heart stutter.

 

“Regina?” Emma is still standing, her eyes rimmed red as if she just finished crying and your fingers twitch with the desire to hurt whoever caused her pain. 

 

You’re about to open your mouth, still sprawled on the ground with your skirts upturned and splayed awkwardly on the ground when you notice what’s in her hand.

 

She’s eating a biscuit, holding it close to her chest, tiny bites taken from the steaming treat and she looks so much like a child then, her red gown dragging on the floor, whispering against her dainty shoes and her hair, oh her hair, the brightest sight in your empty castle, is curling widely around her face as she stares at you with an open mouth, remnants of her biscuit visible. 

 

“Darling,” you say once more, reverently and her green eyes cloud with tears. You understand at once, can feel the fear in her heart as Snow looms closer.

 

You stumble to your feet, eager to hold her and stroke her hair, but she turns on her heels and runs to her room, the biscuit falling to the floor in her haste. You let her run, your arm outstretched in suspense and you wait five seconds until you follow quickly, taking your heels off.

 

You find her at the edge of her bed, staring at her hands and for a moment you remember the magic that sparked under your skin when she touched you, but you forget about it as soon as she looks up at you.

 

“I don’t want her here, My Queen.” It still makes your skin rise in goosebumps with how shyly the title drips from her lips.

 

You sit next to her, knowing that she is yet to finish talking.

 

“I can’t- I want her _dead_.” She shakes her head and her breathing changes. Your fingers twitch. “It’s her fault. She- she stopped taking care of me.” She starts clutching at her chest, the dress constricting whatever she’s trying to tear out.

 

Her breathing hitches painfully and you know her minds clouded with fear and anxiety, and that she doesn’t truly know who she’s talking to. 

 

It pains you to do so, but you sit stiffly and don’t make a move, letting her scratch at her chest and stain her cheeks with tears. It pains you but you know your hands become male and heavy when you touch her like this, and your voice won’t be light and calm, it’ll make her hair rise in terror and throw her back to that night.

 

Instead, you let your magic swirl through your palms and reach out, curling gently against her in a comforting embrace, you let it sing to her until she draws a deep breath and falls willingly into your arms, whispering of damned mother’s and missing childhoods.

 

She’s calm in your arms, a previously trembling ship in chooppy waters reaching shore and you sigh at the contact, remembering the panic you felt when you couldn’t find her wild hair.

 

She doesn’t fall asleep, even when her breath evens out.You know she’s awake, embarrassed in your arms so you do the only think you can think of. You disentangle yourself from her, placing a kiss on her temple and kneel in front of her. 

 

Your hands hover over her knees and at her sharp nod, you reach under her dress and take her shoes off, gently and with cold fingers, until her pale feet are resting on the floor. You look up once more from your position on the ground and ask permission with your eyes. Her green eyes are becoming more focused and she nods slowly, nervously. You remove the slip from her hips and let it pool at your knees. You’re careful not to let your cold fingers touch her, merely undress her gently.

 

The dress is gone next, but your eyes never stray from hers and she holds your dark eyes in hers with trust. She’s sitting in front of you, trembling in her loose camisole she never bothered taking off before putting the red dress on that morning, and you smile so painfully at her she smiles back. 

 

You place your hands on her bare knees and she doesn’t recoil, she leans forward and you can smell the sweet perfume on her. You stand, letting your knees bump against her as you conjure a night gown, long sleeved and modest, drawing it over her head and slipping her arms through the sleeves. 

 

Once she’s dressed, you resume your position, your knees aching painfully against stone but you look at her once more, her cheeks finally regaining color, before you place your head on her lap and mold your body against her legs, sighing contently when she relaxes above you.

 

She needs power, goblets of it, and for her, you’ll lay yourself at her feet just to make her feel like a queen.

 

Moments pass by, and when she places a hand on your hair, disentangles it from it’s high up do, and starts running deft fingers through long tresses, you bury your face in her lap.

 

“Yours,” you mumble, not the slightest bit embarrassed at being brought down by a blonde princess, because when the word passes through your lips, she gasps so deliciously sweet, you grin against her camisole. 

 

“Mine?” she whispers and you bring your head up, look at her from underneath your eyelashes and take her hand in yours. You nod, smiling lightly at her, and she’s staring at you so widely, with so much hope that you place a sweet kiss on the inside of her wrist, purple sparks leaving a print on ivory skin.

 

“ _Yours_ ,” you repeat fervently and she nods and nods until she’s biting her lip, bringing you up with her, laying you down on the bed, silently facing each other.

 

You trace her nose, her eyelids, until she catches your hand and cradles it against her heart. You feel her blood pumping the last heart you’ll hold close and you fall asleep like that, your wide skirt digging painfully into your ribs, your hand over her heart.

 

*

 

You decide to have a ball the day Snow is supposed to arrive, and you gleefully arrange maids and cooks into your biggest celebration yet, morbid joy filling your heart as you think of the annoyed look Snow will bear when she breaks into a _party_.

 

Emma is happy enough about it, walking beside you and making decisions for you, correcting you when you try to make Cordelia bring out the black mantels to adorn all the tables. Soon, you have gold mantels and white flowers, and the princess’ eyes twinkle with your approval.

 

You decide to invite the villages, because you truly don’t have the energy to converse with royalty and Emma looks at your so brightly then, that you place a chaste kiss on her lips, ignoring the maids and council around you. She blushes but smiles warmly and the rest of the day is spent roaming through the woods, personally going through every village, the blonde by your side.

 

She pins her hair up elegantly, curls falling down her bare back, her green dress wrapped tightly against her lean body. She looks like a Queen, subtle and royal and you tell her as such in the carriage, whispering hotly against her ear as she grips your knee. 

 

The villagers fall in love with her, touching her dress and smiling widely at her, you allow the contact only because Emma seems to enjoy it, the warmth and love from strangers that feed off her energy. 

 

Once you arrive back at the castle, you are told there are two visitors for you, neither of them Snow White. Red is back, Yasmin tells you nervously, so you open the throne room doors with flourish, Emma right beside you.

 

There, in the middle of the room, is one of your guards. You recognize his armour, the black crest in the middle of his chest. Red is off to the side, looking oddly pleased with herself and beside her is a middle aged dark woman, glowering at the man on his knees. You round the room, sit on the throne and wait until Emma settles on the newly conjured chair besides yours to speak.

 

“Red.”

 

She steps forward, her cape making noise on the floor, and she bows deeply, without a slight trace of mockery. 

 

“Your Majesty, I brought you the culprit of the uprising.” She points to the man and you finally take a good look at him, his face half covered with blood and grime, a large cut just above his brow. You raise your eyebrows because Red seemed to have taken no mercy on the man, he’s gagged and his hands are tied painfully behind his back. 

 

“What was his role?” Red grins widely, thin lips stretching over pearly teeth.

 

“He was stealing Your Majesty’s coins.”

 

Emma’s hands grip the arm rests of the steel seat and you smile wickedly. The man swallows roughly, and squirms away when you rise from your seat.

 

“Is that so?”

 

He shakes his head and Red jumps in gleefully, “Yes! He kept the monthly aid sent by your grace and let the village rot under his nose.” Red is about to kick him in the ribs and there’s something so deliciously unhinged about this side of her that you allow it.

 

“What kind of punishment is fit for a thief, hm?” You stop directly in front of him, careful not to let your lovely black gown stain with his blood. 

 

He squirms, afraid now and you laugh richly, all too happy at the sight.

 

“Would a flogging do?” You run a single finger down his cheek, nail digging in softly as he cries out. Red giggles madly from her spot near the wall and you can hear your blood sing. “Or shall I hang you from your toes until your blood drips from your ears?”

 

You’re about to flick your wrist, hang him in your soldier’s backyard where they’ll have a full view of the punishment when Emma stops you.

 

“No,” she commands and your anger rises dully.

 

“Dearest?” 

 

Red stares at Emma, her green gown pooling at her feet as she lowers from the throne.

 

“Cut his hands off, first. He won’t steal much after that.”

 

There’s a dark energy about Emma, her green eyes glowing madly and so passionately that you grin at her and hold your arm out until she’s wrapped around it. 

 

“Lovely idea, darling.” You kiss the inside of her wrist, letting your dark lips stain her skin.

 

Dark eyes find yours, heavily done with black lines and shimmering make-up and she’s never looked so vibrant and alive as then, red lips caught between her teeth as she looks dangerously at you.

 

“May I?” She states, and you wonder what she means until she gestures to the kneeling man. 

 

You want to refuse her question, want to keep her light and pure but you realize with a pang that she’s made her bed already, has delved into your own darkness and fed off it without your permission. You’re not one to judge her on her growing darkness, though, and thinking that she needs power to feel human again, after being used by a king, you conjure up a sword, litheand perfect for her, and hand it to her.

 

It’s quick, and painful, Emma’s dress splattering with red as she slices through bone. The man yells as loud as his gagged mouth allows him and you kiss Emma then, relishing in the way her sword clanks to the ground when you take her lower lip in between your teeth. 

 


	8. cursed lovers are the kindest

The woman Red brought with her turns out to be a council woman from the village and you recompense her greatly for the villages trouble. She smiles wanly and throws a grateful smile to Red before scurrying off.

 

Red and Emma follow you to your second visitor and as soon as you’re outside the doors, you know who is inside the room.

 

“Rumpelstiltskin,” you sigh, and Red stiffens. 

 

“Ah, Regina. I did wonder how long you’d make me wait.” He pouts at you, pays the princess and the wolf no mind and you raise your eyebrows at him, flicking your wrist to conjure tea.

 

“I _am_ a Queen, dear. I have matters to attend that aren’t as dull as those of a meddling imp.” You say airily, at once knowing he’ll brush your comment aside.

 

Indeed, he laughs shrilly and slithers to the table set up. He fixes himself a cup and standing, sips dramatically as he stares at you.

 

“Hm, have I lost my flair?” He giggles again and you try not to laugh at the way Emma’s and Red’s faces contort in mild annoyance. 

 

“Ah ah ah.” He says, noticing your attention wavering. “I did think you’d be foolish enough to kidnap Snow’s child.”

 

Emma steps forward then, no doubt to place a hand on your back but you freeze her, making her stand her ground. Mother may be dead, but she’s not the only one who is capable of taking your loves away.

 

Rumple notices anyways, and his eyes go wide with surprise. 

 

“What a twist.” he deadpans, before dancing on his toes. “What a story! The Evil Queen in _Twu Wove_ with the Loveless Princess.”

 

Emma’s face contorts in perfect surprise and your heart plummets.

 

“Loveless?” Emma whispers, her face devoid of color and take your magic back, letting her slump on her own. 

 

“Oh, she doesn’t _know_?” He claps and twirls in place, his golden skin glittering as your secrets spill. “She _cursed_ you, dearie! You’re to search for your true love endlessly, never to find them!”

 

Your brow furrows as he doesn’t specify a gender, but quickly forget it when Rumpel keeps talking.

 

“Of course, I tried remedying that when I sent Neal your way, he _is_ my son, you know,” he nods wisely, his eyes glittering as you stand still, dread filling your chest. “Oh, Snow had been so _happy_ , so ecstatic that I knew of your lost true love, _I can see the future, you see.”_ he whispers dramatically and Emma looks at you with horrified eyes, “we made a deal, Savior. Your mother sold you out before you could talk. Of course, I didn’t know it fell through until I recently came back.”

 

He titters and your world tilts, all you can see is Emma’s pale face staring back at you with fire in her eyes, her fists tight agains her thighs, blood adorning the green fabric. 

 

“Emma-“

 

She turns from you and stomps to Rumple, startling him for a split second.

 

“What deal?” She asks fiercely and Rumple’s eyes shine. 

 

“Ah, that’s a long story,” he dismisses her with his hand and Emma steps forward, nose to nose with the Dark One.

 

“ _What deal_?”

 

“ _Well_ , I think it’s time you learn about the Evil Queen’s story, don't you, Regina?”

 

You shake your head, wanting to reach out and run a hand through Emma’s tense shoulders but the blonde won’t look at you.

 

“I _know_ the story! She wanted to curse the entire kingdom to another realm, separate me from my parents, but she cursed me instead. I don’t care about that.” She says airly.

 

Rumple’s smile falls quickly from his lips.

 

“What I _want_ to know, is what deal my mother made with you!” 

 

“You’re not… _concerned_ with her curse?”

 

Emma’s lips curl dangerously, and she spits out, “Which one, the one you wanted her to enact or the one she placed on me?”

 

“Both, dearie!”

 

“No!” 

 

“But-“

 

“What does it _matter,_ if my mother sold me to _you_ , to your _son_ , to a _king_ , before she even thought of finding a counter-curse! True love is only important to her when it comes to her own happiness!” Emma huffs out and turns around to stand next to you and your hands stop shaking, images of a stable boy laying on the ground evaporating as Emma chooses you.

 

“Your son isn’t my true love, he’s twice my age!”

 

“To be fair, Regina is triple your age,” Ruby adds from the door and Emma growls. 

 

“So _now_ , you are going to tell me about how I’ve been played by almost everybody in this room!”

 

You feel guilt claw at your heart, because you know that if you hadn’t cursed the princess, she wouldn’t have been searching for love in the smothering hands of her parents, wouldn’t have grown to be quite so dark. If she had let the blonde keep her love, she would have grown the Savior Rumple needed her to be.

 

Rumple is looking quite shocked, his glittering skin taut against his knuckles and you settle in for a splendid scenery.

 

“Sit!” The blonde yells, her voice commanding strongly and you want to laugh at how quickly Rumple falls into a seat. He’s surprised himself, it seems, because he stares at you with wide eyes that quickly start smiling.

 

“Your mother, she wanted a fail-safe. Something that would make you happy enough to make up for a lost love, but I had something better!” he leans in, “I had your past True Love and-“

 

Emma raises a hand and Rumple’s mouth snaps closed, confused. 

 

“Past?”

 

She lowers her hand and Rumple’s mouth opens again.

 

“Ah, you see. When Regina failed to curse the land,” he glares at you quickly, pouting, “she shifted the- ah, the future! In another realm, one where you grew without your parents, you would have…adopted a new personality that would have matched Baelfire’s.”

 

Rumple’s mouth snaps shut.

 

“Baelfire?’

 

“My son- see, the curse was _supposed_ to take me to him, in another realm where he became Neal, not Bae.”

 

“So- you’re saying I had multiple true loves? I thought it transcended realms and such, why did I feel nothing for your son?” Emma tilts her head, her anger temporarily forgotten.

 

“It’s different when we’re manipulating the future, dearie! The curse was built knowing you’d fall in love with Neal, meet the Evil Queen through a series of events, and break the curse, allowing me to find my son afterwards!”

 

Emma frowns at him and purses her thin lips.

 

“Why didn’t you use a bean? That’s too complicated.”

 

You laugh because that is the biggest understatement you’ve heard. You feel his manipulations deep in your bones, feel it as tightly around your heart as you had when you were 23, young and on the way to darkness. 

 

He scowls and you feel the beginning of joy creep into your chest.

 

“It seems that only certain people were…privy to such information. Royals, to be exact. They’ve depleted the stack and there was yet a fairy I could find that told me they didn’t _exist_.”

 

“Tough luck. But I don’t really care about your weird life story, so get on with it.” Emma waves her hand, her anger returning. 

 

He scowls deeper, his hands twitching with magic but he talks against his will.

 

“I told your mother that if she… _loaned_ me a bit of your essence, magical, truly, I’d ensure you got your past true love, proving that she’d beat the Evil Queen at her game while giving you happiness in the mean time.”

 

He finishes with flourish and it aches how many times Emma’s been played by people who love her. 

 

“Essence?”

 

Rumple’s smile falters and you see a crack in the Dark One.

 

“Yes. You see, you’re the product of True Love, and magic like that is _very_ powerful. I needed such magic to travel realms,” he waves his hand, “I won’t bother you with the details, but I basically suctioned a bit, a tiny bit, of the good, pure love in your tiny body back then, and, “ he gesture dramatically with his hands, “everybody was happy! Except you, of course. It made you…more susceptible to a certain darkness.”

 

He flicks his eyes to you and you close yours, feeling Emma crumble around herself.

 

“They- they _allowed_ that?”

 

“Dear Snow did,” he nods, but Emma is no longer listening. She turns to look at you and your fingers itch with the need to touch her, but she rushes past you, shoulders past a stunned Red and leaves the room.

 

The room is silent for a second before Rumple stands, finally able to move and says, 

 

“You stole my son’s true love,” his voice drops from it’s normal shrill and, sending Red a warning glance, you turn back to him.

 

“It only took you a decade to find out.” You rise to you fullest height and glare at him.

 

“I was,” he tilts his head, “preoccupied.”

 

She doesn’t care for what his sad story is again, but she thinks she knows what he was looking for.

 

“You took it surprisingly well. Is there a reason you came here other than try and tear the princess from me?” 

 

He giggles and shakes his head with enthusiasm. You purse your lips and walk to the door, no longer being guarded by Red. 

 

“Regina!” You don’t stop, merely twist the doorknob and push. “Guard this last love.”

 

You pay him no mind, because you have more questions than answers now. They will have to wait, because you can physically feel something tugging at your heart, sending you frantically searching for Emma.

 

You find her in the gardens, where you once toppled over her and kissed her breathlessly, the leaves scratching your cheeks and you’re thrown abruptly into a fit of longing. She’s laying down, calmly hovering leaves above her without thinking and all your suspicions and fears finally settle down.

 

Emma has magic. 

 

Powerful, dark magic that has her ripping leaves apart while she stares blankly above her.

 

“Darling,” you whisper, and she startles.

 

She doesn’t respond so you kneel next to her, ignoring the dirt. Her hair is splayed out in a lovely halo, green dress making her skin look too pale in the cold air.

 

“Why’d you do it,” she commands after you’ve given up and laid next to her.

 

You pause before reaching for your courage.

 

“I wanted to make Snow White hurt and bleed like I did, until it consumed her. I never- I held you and suddenly I didn’t want to kill you, didn’t want to leave this world. So I hurt you, instead,” you whisper, barely audible.

 

It’s the most honest answer you’ve given yet and she turns to you in surprise, her cheek pressed against dried leaves. 

 

“I can’t stay mad at you,” she grumbles and you’re struck with how ridiculously easy it is with her. “I don’t blame you for cursing me. And if I did, I forgave you a long time ago for that. I met you and I- I _understood_.” She turns her whole body to face you and you turn as well, facing each other eagerly.

 

“And true love seems unappealing when I have you next to me,” she whispers and your heart soars madly until its joy is rising up your throat and spills over your lips, until you’re smiling widely and reverently. 

 

She places a hand in between your bodies, letting it lay on the ground. You follow suit, letting your smallest finger intertwine with hers, breathing deeply.

 

“Mine,” she says and you nod fiercely, cover her hand completely with yours. You feel as if you’ve corrupted her, letting her forgive something that should have been unforgivable, you stole her love and pushed Snow’s insipid hand at taking what good was in her, but she stares at you with such bright eyes that you let her heart fill with the darkness that is rightfully hers.

 

“Yours, my darling girl.” You bump your head with hers, your high up do tangling in her hair.

 

“No more curses, though. Please.” 

 

“Of course,” you promise and she smiles widely at you, sending sparks of magic up your arm. “Did you know? That you had magic?”

 

It’s no longer a secret you wish to keep from her so you blatantly ask about it.

 

“I dunno. I guess I figured it out when Granny tried shooting that arrow at you. It kinda sparked up. What does that mean?”

 

Usually, you’d say magic like that only comes from True Love, but you cursed her yourself and you’re at loss at how it could be true.

 

“I’m not sure,” you lie easily enough and she stares at you for a beat before shrugging. 

 

Red finds the two of you like that, breathing close to each other’s lips without touching, in a tight embrace.


	9. you've long lost yourself in her

The night of the ball arrives and you find yourself uncharacteristically nervous, although you are starting to think that nervous is a state you find yourself often in when around the blonde. 

 

You have something planned, something so ridiculously silly you might not go through with it at all, but as you take one look at Emma sitting by your vanity, rearranging her curls with her tongue poking through her teeth, your resolves comes back full force. 

 

You don’t tell her, of course you don’t, because you’re afraid that she’ll look at you like you’re _him,_ but a part of you wants this too strongly to become afraid now. 

 

She purses her lips once, looking side to side in the mirror until she’s pleased, and dismisses the hand maid at her elbow with all the composure of a knowing Queen. You know she’s not, she’s barely a princess with her bare feet and her midnight snacking, her wild games and equally fierce hair, but you feel as if she’s already your Queen, with how wrapped around her finger you are.

 

You walk to her and place both hands on her bare shoulders, looking at her through the mirror in front of you.

 

“Lovely,” you mumble as you drop a kiss to the back of her neck and she trembles beneath you, stifling a gasp as well as she can. “Such a lovely girl,” another open mouthed kiss to the opposite side of her neck and she’s standing, turning in your arms, letting you see her black dress, hugged tightly to her waist and flowing widely to the floor. It’s simple and elegant, a mix between the princess she was and the woman she became, and you can’t stop staring at her exposed neck, the lovely curve of her collarbone glistening in the light. 

 

You’re wearing something equally simple, remembering that your guests won’t be lavishly dressed and that your maids attending the ball won’t have much more than simple dresses to wear. It’s a tight fitting red piece, lace adorning the waist and open at the back. Her hands press coldly against the exposed skin and you smile with so much joy, your lips crack. 

 

“Ready, My Queen?” Your knees almost give out, but with one lingering kiss against her red lips, you escort her to where the music is loudly blaring. 

 

She enters first, black skirts moving elegantly and the crowd goes wild, they yell her name and ask for her blessing, her health, her love. She’s a Queen to them without her realizing it, and she stands stiffly, smiles awkwardly at every single one, the power hanging dangerously over her shoulders. Once she makes it to the throne waiting for you just before the steps, you take a deep breath and walk forward, chin held high and shoulders thrown back, letting them stare at your figure. There’s a crown on your head today, one of the few times you indulge in the ridiculous notion, and it sits heavily against your dark hair, rising high and dark gold. 

 

Emma had stared at it for a while, blushing slightly as she said it looked lovely on you, tracing a finger down your collarbone and your breath had stuttered.

 

You feel her touch as you walk through your subjects, more subdued but equally warm when you pass them by, whispering your name reverently and lovingly. You focus on her green eyes, dark and powerful as she passes them through your body. Her cheeks are rosy red, almost as dark as her lips and she look so lovely, so alive that you almost trip on the steps as she guides you to your throne.

 

The music starts as soon as your bottom hits the chair and you look at the scene, happy face swarming to get food, drinks, people dancing joyfully and you feel amazing, thrilled at sharing this with your Emma. 

 

You look at her, ready to voice this, when you find her already staring at you, warm eyes piercing through you. You lean in, ready to make a snappy comment about her staring, when she catches your lips in hers and you _melt_.

 

There’s several loud whistles but you can’t bring yourself to care because this Emma is yours, and you are hers, and she’s kissing you so tenderly you almost cry on the spot.

 

She detaches with a soft sigh, eyelids fluttering and grins coyly at you.

 

The rest of the evening is spent on the throne, greeting subjects and servers, kissing her pulsing wrist in an apology when you have to attend a small mishap in the back. 

 

It’s fixed with a quick flick of your wrist and you're anxious to get back to the stunning blonde, nodding absentmindedly to anybody greeting you that you almost miss her coming your way.

 

She has her hands behind her waist, her chest rising easily and straining against the dress as she twirls a little as she saunters your way, and you’re about to ask what she’s doing, why she left the throne room when her magic pulls you forward. You move willingly, until she’s smiling brightly at you, red lips stretched deliciously and she leans to whisper in your ear.

 

“Come with me,” she purrs and you oblige, mesmerized in her confident little act. She’s _too_ eager, though, so you slow down and she has to tug at your arm to keep up with her, huffing through stone halls and warm rooms, until she slips into a little door meant to stash secret weapons.

 

You wrinkle your nose but your lips quirk up. She waits for you, impatient and buzzing with energy, but you wait just outside the secret door. 

 

“Come inside!” She whispers from inside the room, beckoning with her finger but you shake your head.

 

“What do we say, dear?” You smile wickedly and she winks at you, retreating into the room until the shadows fall across her face and all you can see is her heaving chest.

 

“My Queen,” she purrs, “come join me so I can thoroughly ravish you.” 

 

She says this with mockery, but your breath hitches anyways and your feet move on their own accord.

 

It’s dark inside the room, but you can see the outline of her face, her dress, her shoulders. You back into the room until she’s grinning against the wall, throwing her hair back to expose her collarbones. 

 

Your head dips, fingertips fluttering against her cinched waist, nervous and more than a little aroused. A Queen, making out like an adolescent while she slips away from her own party. You don’t dwell too much on this because your lips find her soft skin, running the length of her shoulders, stopping to lick at the hollow of her throat.

 

She groans and your blood lights on fire, your fingers gripping just a tad bit.

 

Your head is lowering slowly, licking your way down to where her breasts are covered when she stops you, breathing harshly. 

 

“I’m can’t-“ she shakes her head and you understand immediately, curse at yourself for being so careless. You take a step back, momentarily at loss for what to do. She shakes her head again and takes your hand, maneuvering until you’re the one pressed against the wall, tight against her.

 

“You, on other hand-“ She cuts herself off, kissing you fiercely, making your head dizzy. You can’t touch her, your hands are limp by your side, fists tight as you fight the urge to press her harder to you. She gets the idea though, pressing a knee in between your legs, the movement awkward with all the skirts she’s wearing and she growls into your ear.

 

Your breath is coming shallow now because her fingertips are skimming over your ribs, splayed against your sides as her palms reaches higher and higher.

 

You’ve been bedded before, of course, with soft and rough hands alike, but never like this, with so much intensity and consideration that it makes you weak at the knees, makes you press your thighs together just at the thought of her touching you.

 

You’ve killed and maimed, skinned and tortured people for fun, never fearing anything but the darkness inside you chest, but this, this makes you terribly afraid.

 

Afraid that she’ll stop touching you and kissing you, making her fingertips dance across her chest, grazing your nipples and pinching delicately.

 

You are so afraid of her leaving you, and you let her know, kissing her languidly without touching her and it isn’t until she bunches your dress into her fist that you realize she’s said something back, her tongue stroking against yours.

 

_Never._

 

She hikes your skirt up then, easily enough as if you hadn’t taken hours dressing and with one deft finger, she makes you shudder. She’s nowhere close to where you want her to be, but she’s running pale fingers over your thighs, whispering hotly in your ears, obscene things you want to remember, and finally, _finally_ , after days of teasing she slips a finger through your stained underwear and covers your mouth when she puts her hand to good use. 

 

You come hard too fast, seeing colors, red and white and purple, your back arching as the minutes go by, before her face appears in front of you, looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and wrote her name across it, green eyes hold so much wonder and excitement that you decide to kiss her again and again, until it gets too late for the two of you to not go back. She helps you dress and you feel like your nineteen again, sneaking through corridors and giggling madly as you enter the party again. She apologizes quietly, once you’re in the throne again, for not being ready and you assure her that you’d wait centuries for her, rip worlds apart for her if she’s just lets you hold her hand.

 

You're in love with her and she looks at you like she might be, too.

 

You fix your crown and make your way to the front of the room. There’s still long hours ahead of you and after dancing briefly with Red, she comes back to you, as she always does, and asks you to dance.

 

“I haven’t dance in ages, dear,” but you stand up for her and wrap your arms around her, enjoying the way she molds against you and the flurry of color her hair creates as you twirl her around. 

 

She places her head on your shoulder and sighs contentedly, her breath hot against your fevered skin. You’ve grown weak, a complete sap in her presence, but, holding her in your arms, you can’t remember why being the Evil Queen was so important. 

 

You’re still dancing, three songs in, when you grow the courage to tell her. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, lingering your touch and cupping the back of her head before whispering, oh so shyly and delicately, 

 

“I love you, dearest.” 

 

She stills in your arms, completely halting your dancing, and you’re afraid she’s going to run. Instead her mouth falls open, her lips still red as ever and stares at you with wide, wide eyes.

 

You repeat it again because you fear she’s gone deaf and the spell breaks, she hugs you tightly and to your surprise and complete embarrassment, she picks you off the floor and spins you around, laughing. 

 

Once she settles you down, several tears streaming down her face, from laughing or crying you’re not sure, she kisses you sweetly, sighing against you, and she says the three little words that completely ignite your world.

 

“I love you.”

 

There might be tears in your eyes, maybe not, but it’s been so long since you’ve heard anything so beautiful that you bury your head in her hair and then think about doing the ridiculously silly think you keep coming back to.

 

“Emma,” you take her head in your hands, green eyes smiling at you, clear and precise and suddenly you find it very hard to breathe. “May I make you my Queen?” you ask as reverently as possible and for the second time that night, she blinks at you like you’ve painted her world with roses.

 

She doesn’t say anything, but bites her lip, looks at you for a long, long moment, and then smiles widely and dangerously, nodding her head. 

 

“You haven’t even bedded me yet.” she questions, no doubt thinking of the long dead king.

 

“Why would I need to do that when you have so much else to offer?” You say, your deep voice rising hairs on her arms. She nods again, lip between her teeth and laughs with joy.

 

You don’t cry.

 

Instead, you take your crown with shaking fingers, right in the middle of the ballroom and place it gingerly over her head. 

 

“Lovely,” you whisper again and she nods, but she looks at you with stars behind her eyes.

 

The crowd erupts in applause and suddenly there are people around you, so so many people and Emma laughs as she’s torn from you, shaking people’s hands. 

 

The next time you see her, Snow barges through the doors, her prince in tow.

 


	10. let her tear you apart with soft fingers

The doors are thrown open and several people scream in surprise, the White Kingdom’s knights shoving and hurting whoever stands between Snow and her daughter.

 

“Emma!” you and Snow yell at the same time, and she locks eyes with yours across the room, glaring at you. You’re pleased to see new wrinkles and gray hair on the lovely Snow, but you decide to mock her about it later. For now, you have a princess to find. 

 

“Emma!” you scream again, hiking your skirt up and sending for your guards to retain the knights, their armor too bright in the somber room. You run to where you saw her last, passing column after column and helping women and children stand. You pass one more column before something yanks you back and hides you behind it, pressed in a tight place.

 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Emma taunts, the crown still placed neatly on top of her curls. 

 

“Emma,” you sigh, your fear getting the better of you. You grip her arm and she kisses your cheek. “Ready?”

 

She grins widely at you and the two of you come from behind the column, hand in hand, the Evil Queen and the Loveless Princess.

 

The crowd parts as you make your way to the front, and you dismiss them all, allowing those hurt to stay in your castle and asking the rest to leave early, staring straight at Snow. They do not defy you.

 

Snow’s eyes zone in on your hand in Emma’s and you grip harder, knowing this is where you lose her. 

 

“Snow White, what a pleasant _surprise_.”

 

“Give us back our daughter!” She yells, the command not lost on you.

 

“Hm,” you pretend to consider as you turn to Emma, “do you want to go, my love?”

 

Emma tilts her head, looking like the perfect image of innocence before her lip snarls and says, “No.”

 

Snow falters, her steel facade cracking and you step closer.

 

“Well, that’s settled. Have a good night,” you wink at Snow and give a little wave to Charming.

 

Emma chuckles besides you and Snow looks so comically affronted that you’re inclined to do the same. Both parents have a sword by their side and flick them away with ease, relishing in the way Snow startles.

 

She came so deliciously unprepared for you, it’s almost embarrassing. 

 

“Emma?” Snow calls, but the blonde only raises her eyebrows and stares at her coldly. 

 

When neither move, you sigh. “Really, Snow. This is almost too rude, intruding into a private party like this. Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

 

She flinches hard at that, her weary face contorting.

 

Red comes running behind the two of you, having been attending subjects who were hurt and she stops short of running into your back.

 

“Is there a problem here?” She says as coldly as Emma’s staring at her mother, and Snow yelps in surprise, lunging forward to hug Red. 

 

Sidestepping her and sniffing delicately, she stands next to you.

 

“Red? What’s going on? We’re here to rescue you!”

 

The knights around you titter nervously when neither woman show any interest in that, and Emma smiles smugly.

 

“What a pity then, that we don’t require any… _rescuing_.” Red spits, and snarls her lip, looking at Snow with disgust. 

 

Charming steps forward, frowning slightly but focusing entirely on Emma.

 

“Regina, I demand you-“ Snow starts loudly.

 

“Emma, are you alright?” David asks gently, almost reaching out.

 

The blonde softens almost immediately, but she holds your hand tighter. 

 

“Yes,” she nods, the crown wobbling. 

 

Charming’s shoulder’s slump dramatically and he does reach out then, wrapping his hand around Emma’s arm, sliding down until he hits your joined hands. He stills, seeing it for the first time. 

 

You smile smugly at him and his eyes go wide, much the same as his daughter do and you chuckle. 

 

“Yo- you and _her_?” He stutters and to your surprise, there isn’t any disgust, just surprise and maybe a little fear.

 

You nod slowly, laughing gleefully now and Emma smiles shyly, biting her cheek. 

 

“I can’t believe it. You-“ Charming sighs, and you prepare for the worst, “you’re so much older.” 

 

Emma gasps silently at that and you decide that Charming’s not such an idiot after all.

 

“What the hell is going on?” Snow shrieks, tired eyes going back and forth from Charming to Emma. “Why are you here, willingly and- and playing Queen!” She points at the crown on her head and both blondes frown.

 

“I think Eugenia told you all there is to know.” You say.

 

Charming frowns deeper and steps closer to the both of you.

 

“Was it true, Emma? All of it?” he whispers and Emma stiffens, giving him all the answers he needs. 

 

“And we didn’t believe you.” His voice cracks snd Snow looks away guiltily. Something doesn’t sit right with you, and knowing Snow, it’s probable she’s the one the feeling is pointing you to.

 

“Did you believe her, Charming?” You surprise him.

 

“I-“ he looks guiltily at Emma, his jaw tightening, “I didn’t know. I was away, when Red sent the letter. I was convincing your mother of- well swarming in to rescue you when you disappeared.”

 

Emma back is rigid next to you, and you can tell by the tightening of her eyes that she’s very close to exploding. Your rub circles on the back of her hand, silently trying to give her all your love.

 

“I’m so sorry, my little princess.” David whispers and yes, those are tears in his eyes. “I’ll never- I’ll never forgive myself for letting you go.”

 

Emma clenches her jaw, her lips a thin line and you think she’s about to slice her father’s head off, not that you’d intervene, when she reaches a hand out and tentatively takes his hand in hers. 

 

“You must leave,” she commands, voice hoarse, and Charming looks painfully resigned. 

 

Snow, on the other hand, lights up immediately.

 

“Come with us, sweetheart. We’ll take care of you.”

 

Emma swivels sharply to face her, her face a cloud of dangerous promises and raises her chin.

 

“No. We’re staying here.”

 

Red nods besides you and in a move that completely disarms you, she takes your hand and intertwines your fingers together, fiercely loyal.

 

Snow’s mouth opens in shock and she tries recovering quickly.

 

“Sweetie, I know I’ve made a few mistakes, but you have to believe me when I say I trusted the King, and- and I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first. I was convinced the King wouldn’t ever-”

 

“It’s been more than a few mistakes, Mother.” Snow flinches. “You took the pure good I had inside of me, all for a deal with Rumpelstiltskin!”

 

“Who told yo-“

 

“And what’s more, you wanted to let me live with the last dredges of a past true love, when I was still a _child_! You left me! You _left_ me!” The blonde’s voice cracks almost imperceptibly and your heart breaks a little more.

 

“You need to leave, Snow White, and let me live the life I deserve!”

 

“With the Evil Queen?! Emma-“

 

It truly doesn’t sting anymore, not when Emma loves your darkness just as much as you love hers. 

 

“Yes! I’m her True Love!” She yells, surprising you and color fills your cheeks quickly. 

 

“Emma, you can’t have a True Love. She _cursed_ you.” Charming says, more confused than anything else.

 

“I _know_ that.” She takes a calming breath. “But I know it in my heart that I’m _her_ True Love. And if I weren’t cursed, I believe she’d be _mine_. She saved me.” She looks at you warmly then, and you can see a future in those green eyes.

 

“That’s impossible, Emma, you’re cursed!”

 

“Oh, what’s another little curse, really!” She yells, exasperated, and you try not to laugh. “I’m happy with her. _I’m in love with her_!”

 

There’s white and black streams coming out of your combined hands, glowing brightly and hotly and you know she’s about to burst.

 

“I believe it’s time for you make your leave, dear Snow,” you say as sweetly as you can, feeling your hand warm up with every second. Emma growls beside you.

 

“No! We’re not-“

 

“Snow, I think we shou-“

 

“You need to leave, _now_!”

 

Thunder claps outside, illuminating the bright moon and suddenly, the three of you are alone, Red still clutching your hand.

 

“Did you- did you send them away?” Red peers past you to a shocked Emma, and when she doesn’t respond, a slight giggle passes her lips.

 

It’s contagious because soon enough, the rich timbre of your laugh is echoing against the walls, and  your guards come rushing over, only to see two brunettes laughing madly while a stunning blonde stares in horror at the empty place in front of her.

 

You gather her in your arms, pleased when she blinks at you and smiles back. You let your head fall back as you laugh harder and finally, finally she joins you, laughing madly. 

 

“Oh, you should have seen Charming’s face!” Red hollers, and tries mimicking the stupefied look on his face as he was smoked away. It only served for the three of you to laugh harder, tears streaming down your face, and you pick your Queen up, twirling her around and placing wet kisses on her cheeks, her collarbones, her forehead. 

 

“Long live the Queen!” You shout mockingly at her, and the two of you dance, undisturbed, Red laughing silently until she slips out the room.

 

“Love you,” she mumbles after you’ve settled down, your victory still making your ears sing. She’s _yours_ , and Snow White can’t take that love from you anymore. 

 

Sweeping her hair out of her face, you kiss her soundly until she’s gasping for breath.

 

*

 

 

There’s a coronation.

 

You insist on it, mainly because you wish to see Emma in a lavish dress, breasts pushed up grandly and collarbones exposed, and she rolls her eyes, but agrees. 

 

There’s a coronation, but before that, there’s a _wedding_. 

 

It’s nothing like your last wedding, no royals attend, although you see Charming sneaking through the back door at one point in the celebration. You wear a red dress, skirts so wide Emma has to sit on top of you when she tries settling next to you after the ceremony, deep and rich and laced all the way to your neck. You’ve never looked younger or more happy, so you decide to leave your hair down for the first time in four decades. It tumbles down your back, curling around the golden crown on your head and when Emma turns the corner of the aisle, ready to make you her wife, she gasps so loudly several people laugh.

 

It doesn’t compare to how rapidly your jaw drops at the sight of her. Her eyes are dark, oh so dark and menacing, her magic twirling around her in a dangerous energy and she stares at you with murder and love in her eyes as she walks to you, always to you.

 

She wears black, once again, but instead of wide skirts, she wears a tight dress, pooling behind her in a long trail of gold roses. There’s gold lining her dress, her plunging neckline and her shoulders and it makes you think she’s glowing so perfectly. When she stops in front of you, her crown glittering in the morning light, you decide once and for all that you’re happy. 

 

You don’t remember much from that day other than her red lips and her white skin, her wild hair pinned loosely to her head and her dark, dark eyes, undressing you in front of a _priest_. 

 

“Mine,” she mumbles when your lips close against hers, the crowd erupting in joy.

 

“Yours forever, my Queen,” you say and her eyes glow green and black.

 

You fell in love with the Loveless Princess, now the Dark Kingdom’s Queen, and you’ve never been so happy to have cursed anybody. True Love or not (and your heart is whispering _yes yes yes_ when she looks at you so reverently), you fell in love.

 


End file.
